The Darkroom Ch. 03

"Bryan." Stephan's low voice poked through the haze of almost sleep.

Bryan pressed his lips to Jeremy's temple, and Jeremy felt the warmth recede as Bryan walked away.

*****

People lie about not remembering the stupid things they did when drunk. Because Jeremy remembered everything -- every word he said, every moment Bryan was touching him again.

He woke Thursday to his first hangover -- and to Stephan's worried gaze.

"He left those for you," Stephan said quietly, mindful of the angry drums attacking his roommate's head.

The missing negatives were sitting on Jeremy's desk.

"I told him not to call," Stephan said, causing Jeremy to frown in a painful use of his throbbing face muscles. "You know, give you some time and stuff. You'll call him when you're ready."

Now that I've made it worse. Yeah, definitely want to have that conversation.

He couldn't make himself look at the negatives until the next day. He realized that he probably needed to make a contact sheet and any prints now, while he still had darkroom privileges.

On Friday afternoon, Jeremy slipped down to the darkroom and began making prints of each shot, and each one brought a fresh stab of pain to his heart. They were good. They were happy. They were --

"Hot!"

Jeremy spun around at the woman's voice behind him. There stood Kelly and Britton, examining the prints drying on the line.

That's it, he thought. I'm buying a fucking deadbolt and installing it myself.

"Damn, I want to be a gay man," Kelly groaned. She pulled a dried print closer and caught an eyeful of Bryan barely wrapped in a sheet. "Not that I could put up with Bryan for very long, but damn. Damn."

"Nice work, kid," Britton said. "A little more of Ross than I'd like to see, but the composition is cool. Good natural lighting."

"So, what did you guys need?" Jeremy asked, hoping to dislodge his visitors.

"We were thinking about pulling a Ross down here," Britton said casually, throwing an arm over Kelly's shoulder. "You know, leave our mark."

Jeremy closed his eyes and flushed deep red. "Fuck," he muttered. "Is that all anybody will ever think about me?" he asked angrily.

"Actually, it has improved my opinion of you, kid," Britton said.

Jeremy squinted at him. "Fucking in the darkroom is how to get on your good side?" he said flatly.

"I'd been a little worried that you were too timid to make it down here." Britton peered closer at the prints. "Nope. Not timid."

"Everybody has a basement story," Kelly said. "Yours was pretty spectacular, of course, but we all have something. We've all been caught."

"Carson walks in on a lot of sex, is that it?" Jeremy scoffed.

Britton and Kelly simultaneously shuddered. "Oh spare me, St. Elmo," Britton intoned. "That would have required a ritual sacrifice to cleanse me."

"Mine was champagne," Kelly said proudly.

"Huh," Britton scoffed. "Yours was that Delta Chi asshole who turned out to be a screamer."

"Aaaand there was champagne involved," she insisted. "That's what got me caught. We kind of sprayed it all over and left the darkroom all sticky."

"From the champagne," Britton emphasized.

"Yes!" she squeaked. "And, ew, to your implication."

"Mine was smoking," Britton said.

Jeremy frowned. "But you smoke all the time. How does that get you in trouble?"

"Apart from the blackened, diseased lungs you're walking around with," Kelly added.

"It wasn't nicotine," Britton smirked.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "You couldn't do that at your apartment like everybody else?"

"We were on deadline," Britton defended. "It was a stressful time in my young life. And we figured the scent of fixer would mask things."

"Did you set off the smoke alarm or something?" Jeremy asked.

"The janitor came in to empty the trash and caught us."

"What did they do to you?"

"Turns out Calvin is pretty cool. He joined us for a toke and told us stories about his ugly girlfriend."

Jeremy shook his head. "That's your embarrassing basement story? I think I still win this contest."

"True. You're definitely in the record books," Britton agreed.

Jeremy grimaced and ran his hand over his face. "Great. I guess everybody needs someone to laugh at."

Kelly rubbed his back. "It's not like that, sweetie."

"Well, not entirely," Britton added.

"We all laugh at each other," she said. "It's our charm."

"Our ruthless, take-no-prisoners charm," Britton clarified.

"Until the champagne incident, I was a just pretty quiet English major who only wrote stories and tried not to speak much."

"And afterward she was the English major who fucked a really loud Delta Chi." Britton said.

"You just have to have a sense of humor about it," she advised. "Because nobody ever lets anything go. Especially when it involves loud D-Chis."

"Now you've got some skin in the game," Britton said. "We demand our pound of flesh before new people fit in."

"Oooh, nice Shakespeare reference, shutterboy!" Kelly said.

Britton nuzzled into her neck. "Must be a pretty, quiet English major rubbing off on me."

This actually made Jeremy feel worse, knowing that he would never feel comfortable in the basement with Carson in charge of anything -- even if he now had some skin in it, so to speak.

"I don't think I'll be spending much time in the basement, actually," he muttered.

Britton frowned. "Why the fuck not?"

"Well, Carson said --"

"God, you've been listening to Carson?" Britton asked. "Okay, second rule of leadership: Don't listen to Carson. Ever."

"But what if they don't let Bryan become editor? I want to vomit every time I see Carson. I can't be in the basement if he's there. Not that he'd let me be down there anyway."

"First, I think you're overestimating the power of the editor-in-chief of the Goodman College yearbook," Britton drawled.

"Second, if Carson gets editor, I think the newspaper will get a lot bigger," Kelly added. "I'd quit, immediately."

"You can shoot for anybody," Britton reminded him. "The yearbook is not the be-all and end-all of photography."

"And if -- IF -- Bryan's not in charge of the Ivy, the Courier will steal him away, just to spite Carson," Kelly said.

This all made sense. Why hadn't he thought of this before? He let that whining asshole convince him that he'd lost everything in one night.

"God, I feel so stupid," Jeremy moaned.

"What did Ross say about it?" Britton asked.

Awkward silence. "I haven't talked to him," Jeremy said in a small voice.

"Hmmmm." Britton cocked his head. "Interesting technique."

"He's been a wreck since this happened," Kelly said. "And no wonder, if you've been avoiding him."

"I thought I'd fucked everything up for him," Jeremy said. "I was going to wait until after the interviews. Figured I should stay out of the way, improve his chances."

"The interviews are actually right now," Britton said. "Up in the conference room on the second floor."

Jeremy's heart jumped into his throat. Could he do this? He stared at the door for a long moment, deciding.

"Right." Britton started gathering up the prints, and Kelly collected the negatives and returned them to the sleeves.

"We'll be right behind you," she said. "Go."

*****

Breathless, Jeremy tore around the corner to reach the conference room. He wanted to find Bryan before his interview. He wondered if the committee would let him tell his side before they got to him.

Instead of his boyfriend, he nearly ran into his least favorite person.

"Jesus, freshman," Carson sneered. "You don't give up."

"Where's Bryan?" Jeremy demanded.

"He's in there, trying to explain himself. Already had my interview," he said smugly.

"Then why are you still here?"

Carson narrowed his eyes. "I imagine it will be a quick decision, and I wanted to wait to hear from Quinn in person."

Quinn. Carson had mentioned that name before. The adviser, maybe? Jeremy could talk to him.

"Where is Quinn? Is his office up here?"

Carson barked a laugh. "God, you don't know anything, do you? Martha Quinn is a woman, dumbass. She's the adviser, which means she's in the interview right now. You're too late."

Something inside Jeremy snapped. He didn't care what anyone thought of him or even if anyone heard him. He was tired of being scared of this asshole, tired of regretting what he had done. Britton was right. Fuck 'em.

"Why do you want this so badly, Carson?" he asked with tightly controlled anger. "You clearly don't like anyone in the basement -- and believe me, I hear that's mutual. Why do you want this job?"

"Because I'm the best, you moron," he sneered. "I know how to do this right. Everyone else is just fucking around, literally. This is serious work, this is how we get jobs. I will not have a couple of faggots fuck up my future!" he thundered.

"Oh, I think you'll do a bang-up job of that all by your lonesome." Britton and Kelly had appeared behind Jeremy.

"Fuck you, Keith. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Like I'd miss this show," Britton grinned.

"It's not your fucking business!"

"And this isn't YOUR fucking future," Jeremy said. "It's a yearbook. It's fun. It's about making memories and having a good time doing it. That's what Bryan told me, and I agree with him."

"I bet Bryan told you all kinds of things," Carson simpered.

"Not as much as the bullshit you have," he countered. "I'm through listening to you."

"Thatta boy." Bryan was standing outside the conference room door, watching the scene before him.

"Bryan!" Jeremy rushed over to him. "Can I talk to the interview people? Are they still in there?"

"It's okay." Bryan touched his arm hesitantly. "It's all over."

Jeremy's face fell. Carson was right; he was too late.

"That's a fucking understatement," Carson said. "You are definitely over."

"Shut up, Carson!" Bryan, Kelly and Britton shouted in unison.

"Serves you right, preying on freshmen boys, getting your rocks off wherever you can. You should have never started seeing him in the first place. There's too much of that down here." Carson looked pointedly at Britton and Kelly.

"Well, that's just insane," Bryan snapped. "Do you know how many basement alums have gotten married? You really believe they didn't sneak down here in the middle of the night to get a little kinky?"

"They weren't stupid enough to get caught," Carson sneered.

"They also weren't gay." Silence. "Is it worse because we're gay? Because you walked in on two guys, Carson?"

Carson looked away nervously.

"Or it's just me, then," Bryan said. "You don't hate all gay people, just me? Which is it? Are you homophobic or just Bryanphobic?"

Carson responded with a glare.

"It's both," Jeremy said. Bryan moved closer to him.

"Just try and prove it to anyone who matters," Carson snarled.

"Easy. We just have to wait for you to open your mouth," Bryan said.

Carson took that the wrong way. "Get the fuck away from me!" He shoved Bryan toward the wall, and Bryan instinctively pushed back.

"As if I would touch you! As if anyone would!" Bryan wrenched Carson's pale hands away from his own arms.

"That's enough, boys." A middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair emerged from the conference room and everyone stepped back from the explosion. "Retreat to your corners, please."

She turned to Jeremy. "You're the only face I don't know in this scene, so you must be Jeremy. With me." She went down the hall, and He paused only a moment before following her.

He looked back at Bryan as he walked away and tried to tell him everything with his eyes in that split second. But what he had to say would take much longer than that.

Time to stand up for his boyfriend -- and himself.

*****

"Ms. Quinn, please let me explain," Jeremy began.

"It's just Quinn, actually." She added her armful of folders to the mountain on her desk and sank into a large office chair.

"Okay. Quinn." He took a deep breath and dove in. "I know what Carson must have told you, and I know it wasn't right to do what we did, but --" He ran out of steam. "Please don't hold this against Bryan," he finished. "Not because of me. I'll stay out of student pub if it will help. Just --"

"You'll do no such thing," she interrupted.

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"If you think I'm letting an incredibly talented photographer slip away, you're crazy. It's bad enough that we're losing Britton this year. Can't lose you too."

"Oh." Jeremy didn't know what to say to that. How did she know about his skills?

He plunged back in. "I don't know if this is coming too late or if there's anything I can do to help, but it feels like my fault and it would kill me if --"

"Breathe," Quinn said kindly. "This feels like the end of the world, doesn't it, kid? Everything does when you're 19."

Jeremy swallowed hard. "But he's not entirely wrong, is he? Carson, I mean. If this happened on a job, we'd both be very fired."

"True, yes. But this is college. A learning environment. You're supposed to make mistakes here. And, as mistakes go, yours was kind of innocent, in a way."

Jeremy snorted lightly. "Didn't feel that innocent," he mumbled.

"Oh, kiddo, trust me," she said. "That's not the worst thing to go down in that darkroom. You should have been here in '82 when Connie and Frank and I decided to ..." she trailed off. "Well, anyway. Ask one of the editors about that story when you're 21 and you can go to the Saloon with them."

Jeremy purposefully ignored the implications of that last statement. "So, what about Bryan?" he asked with hope.

"Bryan's the best one for the job," she said. "People like working for him, and I can't tell you how many people have told me they would quit if we made Carson the editor. That boy is a good journalist, but even the little power he had this year really went to his head."

Jeremy felt his body melt with relief. He hadn't ruined things. All the weight pounding on his head and heart this last week flew away, and he could breathe once more.

"That's not to say we were terribly pleased to hear about your antics downstairs, but I have to think about the health of the publication as a whole."

Jeremy swallowed, sobering. "Of course. And I'm sorry, officially."

"Then that's that. Don't pull that again. You don't want to make this a habit."

No shit, he thought.

"Now, I haven't told Bryan the news yet, so no spilling," she said. "This is one of the best parts of my job, telling someone they're going to be editor. Don't steal my fun."

"Of course not," he promised. But Bryan would know the second he saw his face what he knew. Bryan always seemed to know what he was thinking.

Quinn rose from her desk and steered Jeremy toward the door. "So, what are you applying for? Courier or Ivy?"

Jeremy dropped his head. "I only just started shooting with Britton a few weeks ago. I doubt either of them would hire me."

She squeezed Jeremy's arm. "Around here, talent trumps experience, and enthusiasm trumps everything else. If we only hired the really experienced, we'd have a bunch of burnt-out seniors who'd quit by October."

Now for that other issue, he thought. "Suppose I'd like to work on the yearbook. If Bryan is editor, would I be allowed to do that? I mean, won't people be mad that I'm dating their boss?"

"You know, if editors didn't date within the basement, I don't think they'd ever get laid," Quinn chuckled. "I trust Bryan, and so do the others. The fact that you're worried about it tells me you won't take advantage of things."

So long as we stay out of the fucking darkroom, he thought.

"But it's up to you, kiddo. If you're not comfortable working for your boyfriend, you shouldn't put yourself in that position."

Before she opened the door, Quinn turned back to Jeremy.

"Whatever you decide, better figure it out soon. We start picking section editors next week."

"I don't actually have to be an editor to shoot, though, right?" he asked, concerned.

"No," she conceded. "But you'll get paid a little bit as an editor. And you really should take some ownership down here. Be a shepherd for your photos. Get some skin in the game."

Jeremy chuckled. "Is that a code around here or something? You're the second person to tell me those words."

"Well, like it or not, you're probably going to be associated with skin for a while," Quinn grinned.

"Oh Lord," Jeremy moaned, shaking his head. It was getting easier to find the humor in this bizarre situation of his -- especially if even the adviser was teasing him about it.

*****

Bryan was waiting for him as he left Quinn's office, but before he could speak, Quinn stepped out.

"Bryan, you're up next," she announced and held the door open for him.

Jeremy avoided eye contact, knowing he would give everything away. He was dying to meet his eyes, tell him everything was okay, but he had promised Quinn.

He thought about waiting outside her office for Bryan to come out, but right now he just wanted to escape this place after such a charged series of events.

He walked the short distance to Sin City and sat on the concrete step outside Bryan's building. The time stretched on forever; Jeremy tracked the creeping descent of the sun into early twilight.

Finally, Bryan's blue car came into view. He sprang to his feet, ready to run to him. But Bryan emerged from the car hunched over, dejected and defeated.

Oh no! Did he not get the job after all? Did something happen? I should have stayed!

"Bryan," he called softly.

The older man's face lit up at the sound of Jeremy's voice, and that wide smile was back.

Jeremy returned the smile and waved. "Is everything okay?" he asked. "You looked, you know, not okay."

Bryan pulled him into a deep hug. "You weren't there. I thought ... I was worried."

Jeremy sighed and breathed him in. "I'm here."

Bryan reluctantly released him. "Let's go inside."

Once there, Jeremy couldn't keep it in any more. "So, Quinn? News?"

"Oh, I got the job," Bryan said, almost as an after-thought. He looked closer at Jeremy's open face. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

Jeremy dropped his head. "She told me. I was so relieved. I was afraid that I ruined ... that you wouldn't..."

"Is that why you stayed away? Why you wouldn't answer my calls?'

Jeremy nodded. "Thought I, well, didn't want to make it worse."

"Not possible. This wasn't your fault at all." He gently cupped Jeremy's chin. "I would have told you that if you hadn't run from me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I think you made this much worse in your head. I know it was really awkward in the darkroom, but people get over stuff. Why did this bother you so much?"

How do I explain this? Jeremy fumbled for the right words. "I didn't want everyone to know," he finally said.

Bryan's jaw tightened. "Are you ashamed of me? Of us? Is that it?"

"No," Jeremy said, frustrated. "Not at all." He blew out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I wish I could be more like you -- not afraid of what people think. Confident."

"It's just like everything else. Need to practice. I could teach you." Bryan waggled his eyebrows.

"It's more than that," Jeremy gave a small laugh. "You're from a much bigger city than me. Small towns are different. The last thing I ever wanted was for anyone to gossip about me, to talk about me at all. I worked so hard to make sure they didn't have anything to say about me. I dated a couple of girls -- girls who were even shyer than me -- and I kept my mouth shut and hid behind my camera."

"And hid in the darkroom," Bryan guessed.

"Yep."

"So, getting caught like we did," Bryan started, then paused.

"Pushed my big, red, blinking button," Jeremy finished.

"I'm so sorry, babe."

"Before this -- before you -- nobody knew I was gay. There was never anybody for me to tell, to trust enough. So I went from nobody knowing to everyone knowing -- and making jokes about it. Everything I was ever scared of was happening at once."